Rose, of Woods Beyond
by Soma Younn
Summary: Eight years before Agatha and Sophie were taken, there was another girl stolen away. Rose never thought she would be taken by the schoolmaster. She's just...ordinary. Though, that isn't true either. She isn't like other girls at all. Rose wears breeches, and does farmwork, and frankly glass slippers disgust her. But, The shoes aren't the worst of her problems. Her evil sister is.


**A/N: I really hope you like it! Please tell what you think!**

I woke before the sun on that day. At that moment in time, I didn't know it would be my last in Gavaldon, and if you had told me, I don't know how I would have felt about it. To be honest, I'm still not sure how I feel about it. But I suppose it doesn't matter, I can't change it.

I crept silently from my place on the floor, carefully folding my blanket and retrieving my clothes slowly, as not to wake my sister. I pulled them on, and shoved my nightgown into a drawer. It closed harder than I meant for it to and I held my breath as I looked to see if it had woken my sister. She didn't stir.

Sitting in the floor, I gently brushed out my long hair. It's blonde, but not the gorgeous light blonde, golden, most people call it, Lilac has. That's my sister. Mines more of a strawberry color. It's pretty enough I suppose, but it can't compete with Lilacs. I plait it back, and even in the braid, it falls past my butt. My hair is the one feature I have that I'm particularly proud of. The rest of me is extremely plain. My mother had long golden blonde hair. My fathers was red. Lilacs and my brothers all had the same hue as my mother, and I'm the only one with hints of red in mine. The last thing I do is pull on boots, tucking the pants legs into them, before I leave the room.

Once out, I breathe a sigh of relief I hadn't known I was holding. I'm terrified of waking Lilac. The last time I did it, she gave me a black eye. I had to tell my father that I fell and hit it on a fence post. He wouldn't have believed the truth. No one would ever believe the truth

I trudge rather slowly to the barn. It's still early, and I've got time. My father will be particularly stressed out today, and I want to get as much done as possible before he wakes up. It'll make it easier. Thinking of this, I pick up my pace, but my thoughts never stray from the day ahead. Tonight the schoolmaster comes. Everyone is positive he'll take Lilac for good, but no one is quite sure who will get stolen away for evil. Therefore, today will be spent making Lilac ugly and hateful, and the host of naughty children presentable and even kind. The average kids- like me, will be expected to keep out of the way. I may be considered a bit odd by the townsfolk, but they all seem in agreement, that while I'm certainly not as good as my sister, there isn't anything inherently evil about me. The reasoning for them considering me an outsider, is that I don't want to be like them. I'm not a girl who wears dresses or flirts with boys. I don't want to dance or be swept off of my feet, and I don't wear make-up. I work on a farm, just as hard as my brothers, and I don't spend a lot of time with girls my own age. And, perhaps most scandalously of all, I think that fairytale princesses are stupid, and don't deserve to be saved. Just because they are girls doesn't mean they can't fight. I'm a boy, in all ways except biologically, and that's the way I like it. Because of this, I've never been considered particularly good. But, maybe they're right, I certainly don't consider myself good. So, while they are off convincing Lilac to be mean and hateful, I'll be here on the farm, quietly working. It's really too bad their attempts are in vain. I don't think it'll change anything. The schoolmaster has already decided.

But, I know he hasn't chosen Lilac. The only thing good bout her is her acting skills. Poor Lilac, her beauty wasted as a farm girl. Poor Lilac who works so hard as the eldest girl without a mother. Poor Lilac, who if she wasn't so good, might not be taken away tonight and would have a future. That's what the townsfolk say. They don't understand that Lilacs pretty face is just that. Underneath it, she's got a dark heart, and enjoys tormenting her sister a year younger and much smaller than her. They could never imagine someone so beautiful, someone so sweet and polite could be a terrible person. People are foolish like that. I finish milking the cows, and begin to feed them, as well as the chickens and pigs. I also collect the eggs, and take them, along with the bucket of milk, to the house. By this time, the sun is already starting to peek over the horizon, and I know they'll be up soon. Once in the house, I quickly begin breakfast. I crack eggs, and roll the dough I prepared last night into biscuits. I cook both, and scramble to fry the bacon. I've just barely made breakfast when Lilac comes in, fully dressed, and beautiful. Her hair is pulled into a bun artfully, with just a few tendrils coming out, as if she's been working, her sleeves are rolled up, and her apron tied with a bow. She doesn't say a word to me, not even a thank you. She just takes the milk from me and finished pouring it, just in time for my father to come in.

Upon seeing Lilac pouring milk for the breakfast I made, his face splits into a grin. "Why thank you, Lilac! You work so hard, we have a lot of work to do today to keep the schoolmaster from taking you. You're just too good." He gives her a peck in the cheek, before sitting down.

"Thank you Father, buts it's really nothing. Someone has to do it, especially after..." She trails off, a pained expression on her face. If I didn't know better, I'd believe she was actually hurting. "I've also already tended to the animals, so you needn't worry about them." She continues. He gives her a grateful smile. I'm tempted to protest. I did all of that work! Not Lilac! I always do all the work. But, I know better. For if it's my word against hers, and he always believes Lilac.

I begin scarfing down my eggs, earning a wrinkled nose from Lilc, who believes in table manners, but not a glance from my father, or brothers(who had magically appeared at the smell of breakfast).Boys don't think about that stuff. They're easier than girls.

I was the first one finished, and I left the table as soon as I was done, not before dropping my plate in the sink. "Lilac" would do them later. For now though, I was feeling sick. I couldn't sit there and listen to my brothers and father praise Lilac, the perfect girl. I was the only person alive who knew who Lilac truly was, who knew about the darkness inside of her. The people were right. She would be taken tonight. Just not for the school of good.

No, she would be taken for evil. There wasn't a doubt in my mind.

Sweat dripped of my nose as I cut the wheat. The muscles in my arms pulled taut as I swept the scythe across the thin golden stems. Logan and Bryce, those are my brothers, were also in the field, though on the opposite side. They preferred to be near each other so they could talk. I would rather think.

I look up as I hear my brothers shouting my names, and spot them waving their arms, seeking my attention. I carefully step through the unharvested wheat, holding the scythe as steady as I can as I make my way towards them. One time Lilac tripped while carrying it and cut up my leg pretty bad. I still have the scar.

Bryce holds up his scythe(Logan had been carrying the basket of wheat), "The handle broke, Rose." Indeed it had. "We need you to ride into town and get a new one. Dad and Lilac are already there. You can get money from them." He speaks quickly, and if I didn't live with him, I wouldn't have understood a word he'd said. But, I do live with him, and as Bryce doesn't seem to know how to speak any slower, our whole family has had to adapt.

"Sure thing!" I exclaim enthusiasticly, trying not to think of having to go see Lilac."Do you know where they are?"

"Uh," Bryce presses a finger to his temple. "I think Dad mentioned the square?" I nod.

"I'll look there first." At that, I hand over my scythe, and jog towards the barn. Once there, I begin to saddle up Thorn, my personal favorite. He's a chestnut colored stallion, big, and hot-tempered. Most fourteen year old girls couldn't handle him. I can.

When I arrived into town, I saw Lilacs muddied face, among a batch of squeaky clean faces of particularly badly behaved children. My father was standing amongst the adults, trying to help.

I stopped and studied Lilac for a moment. Her wide blue eyes were so innocent looking, they glittered in the sunlight, and were framed by long, thick lashes. Her pink lips were full, and seemed to make her ivory skin look even paler. Her body was perfect. She was tall enough to be considered attractive, but not actually taller than any of the boys. Her body was slim in all the right places, but she still had the necessary curves. Her golden hair had been taken out of earliers bun and fell in ringlets around her face. Her cheekbones and nose were well built. The perfect size for her face, and a flawless shape.

Looking at me you'd never guess we were sisters. My hair has tints of red in it, and is always braided back. My cheekbones and nose seem too sharp and are too big for my small face. My body is much smaller than hers, and I've got nearly straight hips. Comparing chest size, is like comparing apples to walnuts. Me being the walnuts, of course. I've got more muscle than the average girl, and as a result, my body is kind of wiry. My lips are too thin to be pretty, and I've never been fond of my chin. My eyes are blue, like Lilacs. But, where hers stand out against her pale face, mine are washed out in my tan one. I'm not pretty. But, I learned a long time ago not to care.

I approached from the back, gently touching my father to get his attention. He nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw me. It seemed I had startled him.

"Rose, you startled me. What are you doing here?" He asked worriedly.

"The handle on the scythe Bryce was using broke. He sent me to get another." I find it easy to speak to my father when Lilac isn't standing over my shoulder. She didn't seem to have noticed I was there yet. I wanted to keep it that way.

"Sure," he began digging in his pocket for some coins. He finally produced some. I ignored the stares, as I left him. People who don't know me always wonder for a moment if I am a boy because of the way I dress, before realizing it's just not possible. I don't have the right physique, and my hair is too long. I still get whispered about though. The villagers think my father doesn't do a good job of handling me. A girl shouldn't grow up without a mother.

When I push open the door to the woodworkers shop, I find it's slightly more crowded than usual. I recognize one of the customers. Caleb grins at me, showing off his crooked teeth, before leaving his father to see me. "What's up, Princess?"

"Nothing much, Loser. Bryce broke a scythe handle, you?" I ask him evenly.

"Listening to my father haggle over the price of a chair." He gives me a goofy grin, and I return it. Caleb is my best friend and mortal enemy all at once, if that makes any sense. I suppose our being enemies started when I was ten, six months before my mothers death. There's a silly game that almost all the village children played. It was pretty common, even among small children. I was probably the only child who hadn't ever actually played before that day, when a couple of boys suggested it. The name of the game was Prince and Princess. Inspired by fairytales, boys and girls would pair off together, and depending on the size of people playing, a third of them would be dragons. The dragons wanted to catch the princesses, and it was the prince's job to protect her. Whichever pair held off the dragons the longest one.

It seems like a simple enough game, only it wasn't. Me being as bull-headed and stubborn as I am, wanted to be a prince. Everyone thought it was a silly idea, but none protested it more vehemently than Caleb, who a couple years later admitted that he had fancied himself my prince. Upset, I refused to play unless I got to be a prince. Caleb and I immediately got into an arguments over the requirements for a prince. I insisted that to be a prince, one must simply be brave, and valiant. He insisted that they must be male.

A bit annoyed by our arguing, the others started the game without us, and we were both wounded at being left out. Glowering at each other, we both stomped back home.

We were quite rude to each other for the rest of the week, and then Friday came. It really wasn't worth fighting him over, in retrospect, but at the time it was. He said, and I quote, "You'll never be the man your mother is, so stop trying." Ouch. He insulted both my mother and me in one sentence. Needless to say I hauled off and punched him in the face. Hard. Blood began dripping from his nose, and he looked shocked and in pain at the same time. "I thought girls weren't supposed to hit people,"

"Had a thought, did you? That doesn't happen very often." I sneered at him, my blood boiling with anger at his blatant sexism. "Too bad it was wrong."

His face steeled with anger, and he pulled back his hand and shoved me backwards. That was all the persuasuion I needed to beat the snot out of him. It was pretty brutal. After that, he had a grudging respect for me. We didn't become friends until after my mother died. But that's a story for later. The one I just shared is the reason for the princess nickname.

"Do you think Lilac will be taken tonight?" He asked earnestly.

I wasn't in the mood to talk about Lilac, but I answered anyways. "Why not? Everyone else seems to think so." He nodded.

"Hmm, well try not to go with her, somehow I've become fond of you." He gave me a teasing smile and a wink. I rolled my eyes.

"I can't possibly fathom why." I responded.

Later that night, I sat in the chair, watching the fire in the sitting room. My father was out with my brothers, fixing a fence post before darkness fell. I knew I should be cleaning the kitchen before they got back. So he'd think Likac did it, even though he hadn't seen her. But, my limbs were too tired, I couldn't bring myself to move from that chair. I wanted sleep so badly, but my stomach felt knotted, nervous, as if I might throw up.

I wasn't nervous about what Lilac would do once she saw I hadn't cleaned the kitchen. She wouldn't be here in the morning, and I wasn't planning on going back to our room. I didn't want to be there when she was taken. Therefore, there was nothing more to fear from her. She wouldn't try anything with Father around.

I wasn't feeling well, because I couldn't stop thinking of my mother. I was sick with sadness. I was mourning my mother, I was mourning my happiness and freedom and father, all three lost to me because of Lilac. While I was happy to see Lilac go, it would destroy my father and brothers, all three of which loved her dearly. I didn't want to see them hurt, even if it meant I was free. Yet, there was nothing I could do.

The pain of losing my mother hits me hard every now and then. Out of nowhere it comes, barreling into me from behind, forcing me to the ground and knocking the wind out of my gut. It crushes my heart, and tightens my throat so hard it hurts. My skin shrivels and turns frail, my veins pumping only weakly, as my muscles disappear. Then, I crawl into a hole and sob, weep for my gone mother, until there are no tears left. After that, I force myself to stand up straighter, force a good-natured smile onto my face, and make the world think I'm happy.

Only, all of that is just in my mind. In real life, I don't cry, I don't allow even a flicker of sadness to flash in front of my face. Lilac is the only one able to force my weakness to the surface, and even then, I'd never give her the satisfaction of seeing me cry.

But, tonight is different. Tonight, I let the tears slip down. I am unable to stop them. It's a heartbroken cry. My shoulders don't shake, I don't make any noise, my nose doesn't run, and my cheeks don't blotch. If you couldn't see the shining tears, silently tracing my cheeks, you'd never think I was crying at all.

I hear the front door open and my fathers and brothers voices, loud and playful. I quickly wipe away the tears, they can't see me like this. Like corking a bottle, the tears stop and I stand. Maybe after Lilac leaves, I can finally have a relationship with my father and brothers. Because, out of all the things Lilacs stolen, that one is almost the worst.

The three of them have moved past the front door and are still taking quite loudly in the hallway. I grab the blanket and lantern I've brought down, and slip out the front door. They won't notice my absence.

I don't run to the loft. I guess I'm hoping someone will have noticed my leaving, care enough to to see where I am. Nobody does.

The sun is already setting, and once I am in the barn, I can't see anything but for the small window located in the hayloft, even that just shows the moon. I light my lantern and climb the stairs quickly.

I've rearranged the loft a bit. I keep the hay pushed to one side, and there's a space in the center that's mostly bare. I set my lantern there. I'm careful to wipe away any stray piece of hay before I do so though. I don't want to set the barn on fire.

The hay loft is my special spot. Lilac and I used to share it when we were younger. She was mean then too, but at that point in time, it was merely an older sister teasing the younger. Or maybe she was always bad. Regardless, I didn't think her evil at the time.

She doesn't go up there anymore, and until the ladder is reinforced, the boys are all too heavy to climb up. Thus, the task of bringing down hay always falls to me. Since I'm the only one who goes up there anymore, it's the perfect place to hide things. Books in particular. My mother loved to read. I didn't while she was alive. Up until I was ten, I always wanted to run around, I had too much energy. When Lilac got bad though, I found an escape in books. I love everything about them.

I love the soft, worn spine. I love the old, brittle paper covered in ink. I love the old, almost musty smell they give off. And, most of all, I love the places they can take you. I read anything and everything. My mothers old gothic romances, my fathers gripping adventure, and everything in between. Even fairytales. Though I still think that the princesses are stupid fools. I used to have more. But Lilac punished me by burning them.

I believe in the power of stories though, in a way most people never will. Because, in these stories, good always triumphs over evil, and that's how my story has to work out. Because I am certainly living in a story, I guess the ending will determine what kind. I guess it's dumb, but I need to believe I can still be happy. I need to believe that Lilac can't control me for the rest of my life.

But I don't know if I can. Lilac is my villian. Few villains have killed their own mother.

Unable to handle dwelling on the thought, I quickly pull a story from the stack, and pull my blanket tighter around my shoulders. I don't even remember what story it was, because what happened next fully captured my attention.

The window was shattered, and a hand grabbed me by the shirt. It was a man, made of shadow. I began to struggle against him, completely confused, but it didn't matter. I was pulled out the window, and despite being fifteen feet of the ground, landed softly. I could see now that I wasn't the only person he'd grabbed, Lilac was in his other hand. I looked at her, and she smiled at me, a cold happiness in her eyes. I felt fear grip my chest as I realized where I was being taken. The School for Good and Evil. Horrified, I began thrashing harder, but stopped when I felt a cold hand on my arm. Lilacs cold hand.

"Don't worry Rose, they won't hurt us. Besides, it's not as if you'll be going to the school for evil. You're good." She spoke with a cruel smirk I her face. "I know how important that is to you."

I couldn't believe it. She was happy to be going to The School for Evil. Lilac wanted to become a villian. We were dragged further, to the edge of the woods, and then I was released.

The shadow gripped Lilac's shoulder firmly then, released her for half a second before claws gripped her shoulders, hoisting her into the air. I heard her give a small shriek of surprise, her legs kicking about as she was carried above the trees, off into the night. I was really scared now, and the shadow simply stood there. I was tempted to run, but doubted any good would come of it.

Ticket?" A voice shouted in my ear, startling me to my feet. In doing so, I knocked a rather large caterpillar off of my shoulder. A caterpillar outfitted in a tophat and vivid purple tuxedo who had somehow managed to grow a mustache.

"Thank you for calling the Flowerground. No spitting, sneezing, singing, sniffling, swinging, swearing, slapping, sleeping, or urinating in the flowertrains. Violations will result in the removal of your clothes. Tickets?" I saw now that the words were coming from the caterpillar. I gaped at him.

"Come on now, I don't have all day! Where's your ticket?"

"I- I don't have one." But I did. I don't know how, but something possessed me to stick my finger into my pocket, where I felt the lining of a piece of paper. I pulled it out.

The caterpillar snatched it from me before I could read it.

"Thank you!"

Suddenly, vines shot out from the ground, encasing my torso and pulling me towards it. Only my body never hit the ground. I felt like I was falling, but it was a long fall, and when I still hadn't stopped moving, I opened my eyes to see myself dangling from a green tree trunk. There were others as well, also dangling. Several girls about my age. I immediately began to feel sick, and my stomach started in with somersaults.

I could see other tracks with people, and to be honest, the scene sounds beautiful, with its leafy plants, and bright flowers, but I was too nervous to notice it. The ride was much too long for my liking. I was just about to puke, when I felt myself tugged upwards sharply,and spilled out onto a green field.

I was surrounded by red and yellow lilies. Only, these weren't normal lilies. These could...talk. As I looked around, I caught sight of several other girls. All of them were beautiful.

But, it was what my eyes rested on that proves I was exactly where Lilac had said I'd end up. It was an extraordinarily grand gate. Golden and spiked on top, it almost kept you from noticing the castle behind it. Yet, I only had eyes for the sign the stretched over it. Seven simple words were engraved across it:

THE SCHOOL FOR GOOD EDUCATION AND ENLIGHTENMENT


End file.
